Reichenbach Fallout
by sherlocked1992
Summary: John Watson is lost. His best friend is dead and he's not sure why. What he does know is now he must deal with the fallout.


"Sherlock is dead."

The sentence didn't make any sense. Especially when it was said out loud. John Watson understood the words themselves. Sherlock, his dear friend, and dead meaning no more. But when he was forced to put them into a sentence, John just could not comprehend it.

If Sherlock was taken by a another person or natural causes, the situation may have been different for John. But suicide? Sherlock Holmes was convinced that he was the most significant human being there was or had ever been. Why would he kill himself?

That question haunted the good doctor. He hadn't slept more then a hour at time since that day. Every time John closed his eyes he saw Sherlock. His arms spread open as if a strong gust of wind would come and carry him to a place where he would truly be appreciated for the crazy brilliant genius he was. But it didn't happen. Instead of flying away, he fell to the sidewalk in a sicking thud.

Oh God, that thud. John was too far away to hear it when it happened, but his mind created the sound for him. In every dream he heard the same gut wrenching, heart breaking, vomit inducing thud.

John Watson had seen horrible things while out at war. Some might say he saw worse things while associating with Sherlock Holmes. John knew that that the most horrifying thing he had ever and would ever see was his best friend laying dead on the London sidewalk, covered in blood.

John realized the irony of the whole situation. After being lonely for so long, he had made a friend, the best friend he could have ever had. And he kills himself. Go figure. But it kept nagging at him. Why? Why would Sherlock kill himself?

His blog was all but abandoned. What was the point of writing? It did nothing but break his heart more. Occasionally John would go back and re-read their adventures. It usually resulted in tears and a cup of hot tea from Mrs. Hudson.

John knew he'd have to leave Baker St one day in order to completely heal but at the present he couldn't bring himself to leave. Each time he saw the yellow smiley face painted on the wall it was as if someone stabbed him in the chest. But it stayed.

John hardly saw anyone from their adventures anymore. The most human contact he had anymore were short daily conversations with Mrs. Hudson. Mycroft would call very once in awhile to make sure John hadn't taken his own life. John assumed Molly Hooper was still in the city. He had no reason to go see her though. Detective Inspector Lestrade came back once a week to Baker St. Him and John would just sit in silence.

This early morning John limped out to the graveyard. His leg had started hurting again since Sherlock's death. He thought briefly about seeing a doctor. But the thought passed and John decided he didn't care anymore about his bloody leg. Let it hurt. The pain reminded him that he wasn't completely numb yet.

With every step John took to Sherlock Holmes' headstone, the gun in his pocket grew heavier. He had made up his mind. Perhaps this wasn't the most appropriate place to do the job but neither was a London rooftop in his opinion.

It was a simple headstone, black with only his name. It was just the way Sherlock would have liked it. John knelled on the wet grass. With a deep breath, he drew the gun from his coat pocket. It was now or never. John Watson decided he couldn't live with the grief. He couldn't live without his best friend. His brother.

John closed his eyes and placed the gun in his mouth.

_ Ding _

Surprised, John's eye's snapped open. He dropped the gun and took out his mobile phone.

_Don't give up yet, friend. _ _Stay alive if convenient. Stay alive if inconvenient. I'll be back soon. _

_ SH _

With tears freely flowing John Watson laughed. A mix of emotions rushed through him. He would sort them out later. At the present, all he cared about was Sherlock Holmes his best friend was somehow miraculously alive.

"Thank you," He whispered. "Thanks for this last miracle."


End file.
